The guys who did not like yeerks
by Twigeldam
Summary: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals and Animorphs crossover. what's the connection? Just aliens invading minds.
1. Chapter 1

**Author note: To be fair, I rarely read author notes, so I will understand if you will skip to the actual story.**

**But there are few things I must clarify:**

**First, English is not my native language. Hebrew is.**

**So I NEED your constructive criticism. **

**Second, even though I doubt non-Animorpher or non-Starkid-rangers would even go here, my story can be read by people who belong to only one of these fandoms: For Animorphers it is like a 2018 AU with adult OCs, for Starkid-rangers it will be like an AU with other aliens and no music.**

**Of course, the best experience would be for the rare souls who belong to both fandoms.**

**The M rating is mainly because of swearing- some characters here will be OOC if they will not swear.**

**Sex can be mentioned, but not described.**

**Violence will be around Animorphs level if violence.**

**The opening chapter is very similar to the opening scene of TGWDLM and the next episodes will remind you of Animorphs book 1, it's necessary for the start and I will try to be more original when the plot will go forward. You will find most, but not all of the people who were infected by the musical zombies will be infected by yeerks in my little crossover.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

My name is Paul.

That's my first name, obviously. My last name is Matthews. There is no reason I will not write this, because no one is going to read it anyway. It's not like I am going to publish it as a series of books or anything, that would be crazy, the controllers are everywhere. Everywhere. They can find me even if I will give myself a fake name and obscure important details like where I live (Hatchetfield, America).

I am writing this all down as sort of a journal, or a diary. Maybe if, somehow, humanity will survive until the Andalites return and rescue us, as they promised they would, I will publish my story.

Maybe.

I was an ordinary man. Ordinary, that is, until one night at the old Starlight theater.

But I better start earlier at the day.

It started as a normal day: My friend Bill accidentally sent a document to my printer, Mr. Davidson asked me to give him reports, I refused to join the company's softball league.

The first extraordinary thing to happen was when my colleague answered a phone call.

"C.C.R.P Technical, this is Charlotte, how can I help?" I heard her answering, "Oh, hi, Sam! How are things down at the precinct?... Well, I am sorry to hear that. Well, my day's been... Oh, really? That's so sweet of you, Sam! I can't believe you did it for us! Of course, Sam, of course. I love you too. Bye."

I glanced at Charlotte, who seemed genuinely happy.

Usually after she receives a call from her husband it ends up in her attempt to smoke a cigarette to relax herself, an attempt I always must stop.

"We are going to see Mamma Mia!" Charlotte said cheerfully, "Me and Sam. Together."

"That's great, Charlotte," I said.

Surprisingly, I meant to what I said.

It was nice to hear that maybe Charlotte and Sam's relationship is becoming healthy and mutual again.

"Hey, you are going to see Mamma Mia too?" Bill asked, smiling excitedly, "Me and my daughter are coming! After my ex-wife took Alice alllll the way to New York to see Hamilton, this show is right here in the Starlight theater of Hatchetfield! I am so lucky! Hey, Paul, you wanna come?"

I sighed.

"Bill... No," I replied, "Sorry."

"You got other plans?" he asked disappointedly."

"No," I admitted.

"So you would rather do nothing than come with us to see Mamma Mia?" he asked in disbelief and dropped face, as if I just rejected the offer to join the eternal and blessed life in Paradise itself.

"Bill, I'd rather do anything than go see Mamma Mia," I answered.

"But what if you don't come a meteor will crush into the Starlight theater and the world will slowly turn into a zombie alien musical?" Charlotte asked, glancing at us with worried look on her face.

"What the fuck?" I responded.

"I had a strange dream about that... And it felt very real," Charlotte replied.

Bill blinked, confused.

"Well... It's not about the dream, Paul," he said, "It will be fun! You used to babysit Alice, you can have a great time with us! Charlotte and Sam will come, and I think Ted will come too. All your friends will be there. Why won't you?"

"I will think it," I said, "Well, I, um, going to Beanie's, do you want anything?"

"I just want my daughter back," Bill answered.

"How about an iced caramel frappe? Nothing better!" I suggested awkwardly and left the room without waiting for his answer.

"Hey, are you going to Beanie's?" asked Ted suddenly, seemingly popping out of nowhere as he likes to do.

"Yeah," I answered.

"You didn't invite me," he said, staring at me annoyingly.

"Sorry, Ted. Do you want to come?" I asked, hoping he would say no.

"No, no, no, no, no," answered Ted, fulfilling my secret wish.

"I don't wanna 'show you up', yeah?" he added, winked, clicked his tongue and nudge my shoulder.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

I think my face froze.

"Paul, come on. I know why you walk that extra block instead of just going to Starbucks across the street," he said, grinning.

Shit.

"I don't want to give my money to some corporate chain-" I began to explain, but Ted interrupted me.

"Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh," he teased and his grin grew wider, "You sure it doesn't have anything to do with that cute lil' barista over there, huh?"

I felt my face heating up.

"That's not the reason," I lied.

"Yeah, the 'Latte Hottay'?" he practically shouted, using ridiculous fake accent, and then went back to normal speaking, "as she's known throughout the land, it's like, Ma wife, right?"

He laughed a little and tried to say something more, but I kind of ran away from him.

Fuck.

How does he know?

Had I been that obvious?

What if the barista noticed too? If she did, she probably thinks I am lame. Maybe I am lame. If I wasn't, I would have the courage to flirt with her. But maybe I am not handsome enough to flirt with women naturally. Well, I am tall, I have blue eyes and women tend to like features like those, but I am still not considered notably attractive. Maybe I am not muscled enough, maybe it's my face, which is not ugly but don't tend to make girls swoon either.

The barista is very different from me. The nickname "Latte Hottay" actually fit her- but it's not like I am going to tell her that.

She has skin like chai latte, mocha hair pulled into bun and eyes dark as black coffee.

She is very cute and nice too.

When I entered the coffee shop I immediately heard the barista's angelic voice saying: "Oh, no, what am I gonna do without that DOLLAR I have to split with five other people?"

A random customer replied angrily: "You know what? I'm never coming back here again. That's sign's bullshit!"

"Oh my god, so mean!" whined the barista and presented him her middle finger.

I looked at the customer who left the shop, wondering what the hell just happened.

Another woman in Beanie's clothing talked to the barista.

It seemed like she was her boss, and she was scolding her.

After their conversation ended, the barista turned to me, slightly defeated.

I smiled at her.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes, I got an easy one for you: just a cup of black coffee."

She nodded and started making it.

I tipped her.

"Jesus! Really?" she asked, annoyed for some reason and started to sing: "I've been brewing up your coffee-"

"Oh, no, no, no. No, no, no," I interrupted her, "I'm sorry, no. I don't need you to sing."

This was the moment I noticed the "Tip for a song" sign on the tip box.

"I just tipped because you know…"

I wanted to say: "Because I like you", but I didn't know how she will accept that.

"People should tip," I finished.

"Well, thank you," she answered, "I mean because if I have to sing for it, It's not really a tip, right? It's like I have another shitty paying job on top of my already shitty paying job."

I nodded in agreement, glad to have an actual conversation with the little barista.

"cause, I mean, most of my tips are less than a buck," she continued, "So after the split, I'm making, like, not even 25 cents a song. That's less than a fucking jukebox. Only a jukebox doesn't also have to make coffee for these assholes. Oh, not that you are an asshole."

She considered it for a moment.

"Well, maybe you are. What did You tip?"

She checked the tip box.

"Five bucks!" she said, impressed, took out the bill, glanced back and asked: "You meant it just for me, right? Like I don't have to split this with anyone…"

"Oh, no, that's for you. I don't give a shit about them," I answered.

She laughed.

"That's very sweet," she said and put the bill in her pocket.

"God, I am just so sick of Nora and Zoey," she told me while making the coffee, "Who is technically my manager even though she is ten years younger than me. Ugh, she hired all her little theater friends and they will not shut the fuck up"

She sang the last four words, and then went back to normal speaking: "about some shitty production of Godspell they did last summer."

"Oh, that was the one on the rec center, right?" I said, "I think I had to see that. I didn't like it."

"Yeah!" she replied joyfully, "It sucked, right"

"Yeah, they shouldn't call it Godspell, more like God-awful," I joked."

"Yeah," she agreed, "Or like God-damn-that-was-bad"

I laughed awkwardly.

"I don't like musicals," I said, "watching people sing and dance makes me very uncomfortable."

"Well, why did you come to the singing coffee shop?" she asked, handing me my cup of coffee, "You know, there's a Starbucks across the street."

"Oh, uh, well, you know… Some things are worth it," I answered.

She looked at me, confused.

I realized what I just said and immediately tried to cover it up.

"Like," I added and sipped, "damn good coffee."

I raised my thumb.

She did the same.

"I see you in here all the time, don't I?" she asked, "what's your name?"

"Paul," I answered.

"Hi Paul," she replied, "I'm Emma."

"Excuse me!" erupted a nerdy looking boy, "I have been waiting a very long while"

"Sorry, sorry," Emma said and started making his order.

I intended to leave, but then I remembered Bill.

I sipped more of my black coffee and waited.

"You are still here," Emma remarked after the boy got his hot chocolate.

"Yes," I confirmed, "I almost forgot, I need to get iced caramel frappe for my friend."

"Ok," she answered and started making it.

Then she talked to me again.

"You know, I am actually gonna try and get along with Zoey. She invited me to see Mamma Mia tonight with her friends and for some damn reason I didn't say no."

"Oh, my friends tried to convince me to come with them to see it too," I told her.

"Well, maybe you should go there," she said, "I know you don't like musicals, but you can find out-" she smiled slyly "-that some things are worth it."

I blushed.

"M-maybe I will be there," I said.

And that's how I found myself later watching the show that changed my life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author note: Fun fact: Paul means Bean in Hebrew. A coffee bean is called Paul Café. It's not the origin of the name, it's just a coincidence. OR IS IT?**

**And if you came in because of Aximili, I am so sorry. My stupid mind went too forward with the story when I tagged him among the characters, it will be a while until the Hatchetfield animorphs will save him. **

It was a rainy evening and I got a little wet before we came in.

Before we sat down, I already knew I wanted to get out of there.

The theater was full of people who chattered excitedly, and the spotlights illuminated the curtains that covered the stage, a stage on which I knew actors were supposed to get on, sing and dance.

The mere thought made me feel uncomfortable.

You can even say I was afraid.

In retrospect, it seems almost amusing that musicals were the scariest thing in my world, because less than a hour later I had much more serious stuff to be afraid of.

I set down between Bill and Alice, his daughter.

Ted set to Bill's left, Charlotte set one row in front of us and next to her was an empty seat, reserved for Sam, who was late for some reason.

It took some time until the entire crowd set down in places, and then one man got up to the stage, in front of the curtains.

He held a microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry," he said.

I frowned.

Did something bad happen?

"We have, um, an unexpected change of plan," he went on and scratched his head in discomfort, "It's pretty embarrassing, um, the main actors informed us they don't feel well and-and understudies hadn't been found to all of them, which "Mamma Mia" will not be performed tonight."

There were voices of protest and scorn.

"The show must go on!" someone called.

"I want my money back!" Someone else shouted.

I felt relived.

I glanced at Bill, whose mouth was slightly open in disappointed, sad expression.

"Quiet, please, quiet," the announcer said on the microphone, "quiet. We understand your anger, do not worry, the tickets you bought were not in vain. The players will get well at the Hatchetfield Hospital and once they recover we'll let you know and you can come back and watch the show. If you want to get a refund on your tickets instead, we'll take care of that as well, so you can return to your home for now. good evening."

The lights in the hall went on, but the spotlights went out.

The crowd mumbled in disappointment.

Several people came to the front of the stage to speak to the announcer, but most of the people got up and left.

"Fuck!" Ted cried.

We stood slowly up and prepared to leave.

I shrugged.

"Well, it looks like I will not see this musical with you after all," I said. "What a pity."

"Hey," Bill said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "do you think you've managed to get away from it? This show will be on stage and you will join us to watch it when that happens."

"We will see," I said.

"Hey, Paul!" I heard a familiar voice.

I turned my head and wasn't entirely surprised to see Emma.

"Your name is Paul, right?" She continued as she moved along the seats, "because it can be so embarrassing if not…"

"Yes, my name is Paul," I replied.

"Who are you exactly?" Asked Ted, looking at her mother with a strange expression.

"Oh, this is Emma, from Beanie's," I introduced her, "Emma, those are Ted, Bill, and Alice."

"Hello," Bill said kindly.

"Hey," Alice said boredly, not looking up from her phone.

"Wait a minute, I know you," Ted said. "You are the crabby barista, you didn't sing when I tipped you!"

"Uh, fuck you?" Emma suggested.

"Hey, Dad," Alice turned to Bill and looked up from her cellphone. "Can I go and see Deb?"

"What, why do you want to meet Deb now?" Asked Bill, slightly frustrated.

Because tomorrow I must go back to my mother's house," she said. "I can't see Deb when I'm in Clivesdale."

"Come on, Alice, you know-" Bill began to say, but Alice interrupted him.

"You just don't like Deb!" She said angrily.

I scratched my neck uncomfortably. I felt very unconnected.

Ted and Emma also seemed embarrassed by the inter-family argument that had taken place in front of them.

"This is not true!" Bill protested.

"Then prove it," Alice said, "if you have no problem with Deb, why don't you let me go to her now?"

"You know what? Go to her!" Bill replied.

"Excellent!" Alice shouted venomously and left.

We all stared at her as she hurried along with most of the crowd down the stairs and out.

Suddenly Charlotte came up to our line

"Have you seen Sam?" She asked, her voice shaking with worry, "He was late for the show, and then I called him to tell him it had been canceled, but he does not answer me, Sam doesn't answer me, why doesn't he answer me?"

"Do not worry, Charlotte," Ted said confidently, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Sam is a cop, he knows how to take care of himself. If he doesn't answer you it's probably on purpose."

Emma punched Ted's arm.

"Ouch! What was it for?" He asked her and rubbed his arm.

"You deserved it!" Emma replied.

"Listen carefully, Erica or whatever you are called - you do not know me, you do not know Charlotte and you do not know Sam, so you have no right to interfere in this matter," Ted said, "Beat it."

"Um, fuck you again?" Emma suggested.

I didn't want to be witness to another stupid fight.

"Ted, Ted, you do not have to expel Emma just because she hit you," I said, "we're not supposed to fight, we have to find Sam."

"Did you try to send him a message?" Bill asked Charlotte.

"Yes," she said, almost sobbing, "I tried, but he doesn't answer me."

"What about the police?" Emma asked.

Charlotte looked appalled.

"Do you really think Sam's so bad that I have to call the police?" She asked, startled.

"Damn, Charlotte, calm down! Sam does not need the police, Sam is the police!" Ted reminded her impatiently.

"Oh, right, she said, calmer, "I forgot for a moment."

She picked up her cell phone and dialed the police.

"Hello?" She asked, "My husband Sam is gone, he works for the police. yes, yes…"

"Excuse me!" Called a nervous-looking boy who was holding a broom in his hand.

He came to stand between us.

"You should go," he said, "we must close the theater."

"Wait a second, sir, we're trying to find her husband," Bill said, nodding at Charlotte, who was still on the phone.

"Can't you do that outside?" Asked the boy.

"Hey, no pressure," Emma said, "it's not like we're the last ones left here or anything."

As we looked around the rows of seats a large group of people got up, left and left us alone.

"Oops," Bill said.

The boy sighed.

"You know what," he said, "you can stay here as long as you want, the back doors open from the inside, so you will not be trapped here, but we turn off the light."

He went down between the rows and left.

The light went out a little after that and left us in total darkness.

Charlotte let out a scream and then went back to talking to the phone normally.

"No, the lights just turned off and it kind of scared me, it's all right. Oh, really? thank you."

She hung up and turned on the flashlight of her cellphone.

"Sam's fine," she said in a tone of relief, "he's just so busy with his work."

"Yeah, sure," muttered Ted.

Charlotte shone with her cell phone in several directions and then stopped at Emma.

"I did not notice you before," she said, "who are you? I'm Charlotte."

"Emma," Emma replied.

Suddenly there was a great thundering noise, followed by the terrifying sounds of a crash, shattering, and falling objects.

Suddenly I was able to hear the rain clearly.

"What the fuck was that?" Ted asked, alarmed.

"It sounded like something just crashed through the ceiling," I said.

"What the hell, Paul, I do not see any fucking hole in the ceiling!" Ted replied.

"Not exactly here," I said, "but ... more ... above the stage?"

I began to step down between the seats.

The rest followed me.

The closer we went to the stage, the clearer it was that I was right-I heard more and more clearly the sound of rain falling through the theoretical hole in the ceiling.

I climbed up to the stage, pulled the curtains and illuminated forward with the flashlight of my iPhone, where, through a curtain of raindrops and under big pieces of ceiling, was the strangest thing I had ever seen.

"What do you see, Paul?" Asked Bill.

I did not reply.

I knew what it looked like to me, but I didn't want to say it out loud. I was afraid I would be laughed at.

Bill climbed the stage and stood next to me, he saw what I saw and said what I didn't dare say: "it's a flying saucer!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author note: Apparently I can't use the signs: (if you can't see them it's because I can't fucking use them!) to represent thought speaking (that how we Animorphers call telepathy) so I used = instead.**

**I know. It sucks. If you have a better idea how to represent thought speaking please tell me.**

"A flying saucer?" Ted repeated.

He did laugh.

But then he joined us on the stage and saw it.

The girls came too and flashed forward with their smartphones.

Then the rain stopped and the picture became more clear.

"well, it's not exactly a flying saucer," Emma noted while gazing the object.

She was right- it wasn't shaped like a saucer.

It was more like a weird starship, not much bigger than a bus.

It had a front end, probably the cockpit or something parallel, that was shaped somewhat like an egg.

Its central part was long and probably cylindrical, it was hard to see because of the ceiling chunks and wet dust that rested on it.

On its side was a curved wing that ended with a tube.

I assumed that there was a similar wing on the other side.

The weirdest part was the rear part, that bent up and forward in a sort of bow and came to a point that looked as sharp as a needle.

It looked like a scorpion tail.

"This tail," I whispered, "it looks like a weapon.

"Shit," Emma whispered back, "is it going to burn us all?"

"I hope not," Charlotte mumbled, shaking.

"Hey, I am running out of battery," Ted said, way too loudly, "Are you going to film that?"

"Okay," I answered and turned on the video camera on my phone, "What should we do now?"

I felt nervous and dumb.

Nothing in my life prepared me for such a situation.

Thankfully, I wasn't alone.

Maybe we should communicate," Bill offered, saw that no one objected, stepped forward and called: "Hello! We are people of Earth."

"This better not be a prank," Emma said.

"If it's a prank it's a good one," Ted commented, rubbing his chin and nodding, "very well made. I like it."

Bill tried again: "Don't worry, we will not hurt you."

=I know=

I froze.

I was sure I heard someone saying: "I know," only I didn't hear anyone.

It was like a hallucination, or telepathy, or a line from a movie that got stuck in my head.

I looked at the others and we all exchanged glances.

"Did you hear that?", Charlotte asked, looking to her right and left, confused.

"The alien that said he knows? Yes, I heard that," Ted answered.

=I am going outside,= the voice that wasn't a voice said, =Do not be frightened.=

"We are not frightened," Bill said.

"Speak for yourself," I muttered.

The others giggled nervously.

I barely could hold my iPhone because my hand was shaking.

A round entrance opened in the front part of the spaceship, like a filling moon.

Me, Emma and Charlotte directed our flashlight toward the opening and we saw the alien.

The first thing I noticed about it was its head, it seemed almost human in shape, only more triangular, and it head human-like eyes that narrowed from the bright light in a very human manner.

But above them was another pair of eyes, connected to stalks just like snail's eyes in cartoons.

Where a nose was supposed to be were three vertical slits and where a mouth was supposed to be was no organ.

The alien came out of the spaceship and I could see the rest of its body more clearly.

Its upper body was almost human, except for the skin which was light blue.

But the lower part was entirely different, like a body of a little horse or a deer, with four hooved legs and blue and tan fur.

The alien could have been kind of cute if it wasn't for its tail- a long, thick, muscular scorpion-like tail.

Overall, I can say that the alien looked like monstrous centaur.

"Hello," Bill said gently.

He smiled for some reason and I found myself smiling too.

The alien, as weird and creepy as it was, gave me a feeling like he was a close friend I have known for a long period of time and now I finally saw him again.

I had tears in my eyes.

=Hello,= the alien said.

"Hi," Charlotte replied.

"Hola," Emma added.

"Ahlan," Ted said.

"Hey," I said.

I focused the camera of my phone on the alien.

The alien stumbled and fell to the ground.

For a moment I thought it was because the rain that wet the stage, but then I saw the huge, deep burn that covered half of the right side of the alien's body.

"Oh no, it's wounded!" Charlotte wailed and hurried to sit beside the alien.

=Yes. I am dying,= the alien agreed.

"You need to see a doctor," Charlotte said, "the wound should be bandaged. Ted, give me your shirt so I can tear it up and make bandages."

"Gladly," Ted replied and immediately started unbuttoning his shirt.

=There is nothing you can do for me. The wound is fatal.=

"No!" Bill cried and set beside the alien and Charlotte, "You can't die! You are the first alien ever to come to Earth. You must live."

I saw tears in Bill's eyes and I couldn't blame him.

I didn't know why, but it pained me too to think about the alien's possible death.

=I am not the first. there are many others.=

"What? There are more like you here?" Emma asked, surprised.

The alien shook his big head slowly, side to side, and then cried in pain, a silent sound that echoed horribly inside my head.

I could actually feel the agony.

=Not like me,= the alien answered, =they are different.=

"Different? How?" Emma asked and frowned.

=They came to invade your minds.=


End file.
